


The Engagement

by scorpiobabylon



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Abigail Hobbs Lives, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death Fix, Dating, Engagement, Episode Fix-It: s02e13 Mizumono, Episode Fix-it, Established Relationship, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Fix-It, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Happy Murder Family, M/M, Murder Family, Murder Husbands, Romance, Wedding Planning, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 00:35:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17070143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiobabylon/pseuds/scorpiobabylon
Summary: Will is engaged to marry Hannibal; the events of the season two finale are avoided with the power of true love.





	The Engagement

There was no question as to whether or not Will would go through with the wedding. He was the lure, as he’d explained to Jack, and one wrong move would cause their trout to swim away. Calling off the engagement was the wrong move. This was how he’d justified it, for Crawford’s approval. To Freddie Lounds, and in a gentler tone to Alana Bloom, he’d told a different story about confusion and forgiveness and what it’s like to be the only person capable of healing a loved one you’ve hurt. He may have told something closer to the truth to Beverly Katz; the feelings, the way his heart ached and fluttered, the profound belonging he felt for the first time in his life. She’d understand that sometimes people in love have to push each other away before they’re ready to accept being seen. She’d laugh at the ludicrously high stakes of their spat. He’d have liked to talk to Beverly. Abigail, too. “We’re still very much in love,” he could imagine himself telling Abigail, “and we love you.”

The truth he told Hannibal, the one he believed in his heart, was that there was no reality in which they could bear to separate. Their only option was to escalate their relationship. Live together, or die together, and they were both altogether too curious about each other to snuff the light out.

They’d gotten engaged in a hurry. Not because Will was nearing forty and Hannibal fifty, but because Will refused to let this man slip out of his fingers when everything else was falling apart. Every relationship Will had was fractured, and he groped blindly for something solid to hang onto. He’d brought up the idea in the waiting room for his brain scan. Alone with him, sitting in a stupid hospital gown and gripping his hand, he’d leaned over and asked quietly if Hannibal would like to be his husband.

“Do I want a legally binding ceremony to celebrate my continued unconditional care for you?” Hannibal reframed in that infuriating way he liked to, making up for it with the goofy all-teeth smile he only ever showed to Will. “Yes.” He agreed, and kissed Will until his fears subsided.

Will could only fall lower, their agreement doing nothing to cushion his landing. He could only hope to fall with him, showing Hannibal the family heirloom-- a simple gold band-- as they waited for Jack Crawford to come arrest him. Will held the ring out, sitting in his house wrapped in a blanket and shivering while Hannibal crouched in front of him to stare.

“If you still--... I, I, meant to give you this, if it--...” Will stuttered, every nerve in his body screaming, thinking Hannibal’s acceptance might be the only salve to the bewilderment and the grief. Hannibal took the ring and tried it on, looking pained as he found it a perfect fit.

“I didn’t kill her.” Will whispered as Hannibal knocked their foreheads together and petted his damp curls.

“I know.” Hannibal agreed.

Will had expected he’d marry, at some point. He needed companionship, and wasn’t altogether bad to look at. While the psychologically curious were the only types who had a chance of understanding him, he found them aggravating. It was always a one-way street with doctors and profilers; they’d find Will endlessly fascinating while getting him all wrong, and Will could see nothing in them. If he intended to settle, it would have to be with someone who wasn’t curious about the darkness. Someone who saw a version of Will and agreed never to dig deeper, so they could enjoy only the best of each other. Someone with ‘must love dogs’ somewhere on their online profile.

Then, he met this doctor. Hannibal understood him; the very worst of him, and looked him in the eye with such perceptivity and compassion that Will’s heart raced. Hannibal exposed him, and when he warmed up to returning his gaze, he found his interest in the man before him was boundless. He was a beautiful specimen; tempting enough to draw Will into his bed, but the conversations they held kept him there until morning, inquisitive and fond as he carded his fingers through Hannibal’s chest hair and rebutted his theories on god.

They were an item by the time Tobias Budge made the attempt on his life. That was his man, his partner, his boyfriend looking up at him with shining eyes in his office as the paramedics cleared out. Will sat on the edge of his desk and dabbed blood from his forehead, mouthing “I love you” for the first time to him, overwhelmed with gratitude that he’d survived the encounter. Hannibal took two weeks off from seeing clients while his leg healed, and Will took full advantage of the vacation. They spent entire afternoons in bed, talking to each other and exploring what pleasure could be wrung from their bodies. Will could barely tell which way was up in those days, but had unending capacity for romance, as he felt Hannibal grounded him. His anchor. His lighthouse, his sails, his food stores below deck. Unbeknownst to him, the storm which rocked the boat.

He was eager to marry Hannibal, then, for his art of conversation. For his spectacular home cooked meals, his style, his grace, his doting affections and strong hands. His lovely face. The crinkles around the corners of his eyes when he smiled, and how unambiguously he loved Will. Will didn’t return the affections of every person who was enamored with him, but there was something irresistible about how completely this man seemed to love him. He’d hold Will around his waist and tilt his head and look at him like he was all that could ever matter to him. Of course they should wed.

It wasn’t until Will was pointing a gun at his fiancé in Minnesota that he realized the magnitude of their union. This was not ‘must love dogs’. There was no darkness too terrible for Hannibal’s eyes; not just to accept and forgive, but to revel in. To share. Will had never considered the possibility of sharing, and realized as Hannibal sweat and stared at him in the Hobbs kitchen that he had not either, until each other. Their desperate search ended with one another, not only for a loving companion, but for a soulmate, for a collaborator. A friend. A connection of lightning in the dark.

Where Hannibal was a monster with an exquisite human persona, Will was a human ever drawn to the possibility of transformation into monstrosity. _Change me_ , he wanted to beg of him, _cut out the part of me that resists you_.

Hannibal didn’t need to. Will cut it out himself, through Hannibal, by sending the orderly to him. The bloodbath at the pool was a love letter written by a changed man, reading something to the tune of, “I can bite, too. Thank you. Your love, always, Will Graham”.

It hadn’t been signed clearly enough for Hannibal’s liking, and he required more sacrifice. A more intimate kill, with Randall Tier. Will rose to the occasion and passed Hannibal’s test with flying colors, asking, “Marry me?” again in his dining room as he washed his bloody knuckles and wrapped them.

“If you’ll have me. I haven’t stopped wearing the ring.” Hannibal watched Will admiringly, then leaned in to seal their pact with a kiss.

Their lovemaking was passionate and unrestrained. Hannibal fucked him, that night, then rolled Will onto his back to lock eyes with him while he worked his cock off in his fist. Will could see the horror of Hannibal brimming just under the surface, unafraid to dance for him now. It animated him, made him move with intention and fevered need. His wretchedness glimmered in his dark eyes and drew Will to him, over and over, the mesmerized lover of the angler fish.

When Hannibal offered Will a wedding present the night before the event, Will couldn’t help scoffing and laughing. There had been so much pleasantness in the days leading up to the wedding, and Will was nearly bored with it. He wanted to see Hannibal’s teeth, again. They’d sent out the handwritten invitations and chosen all the details to perfection, Hannibal spending his days having a tremendous time flexing his civility. A wedding was the height of his game, a show-stopping display of taste and elegance and commitment to society. It was all well and good; it pleased Hannibal to select cake, and seat people who would want to fight but could not fight in proximity to each other. Will was unsure, though, about a gift the night before. What more could Hannibal possibly do?

He made Will wait in the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of wine and stood patiently. Perhaps, a body of a mutual enemy? The opportunity to kill one himself? It made Will’s stomach churn to imagine their connection in wickedness becoming routine in the same way their couplehood did through days of tuxedo-fittings. He visualized himself regarding a mangled corpse with the same charming blandness as he accepted Hannibal’s flower arrangement suggestions. It made him sick. He sipped his wine and hoped for the best.

Will nearly broke the glass stem between his fingers when Abigail appeared in the kitchen, in a deep blue sweater which Hannibal must have chosen for her. She stepped towards Will cautiously at first, her smile giving away her delighted enthusiasm. “Hi, Will.” She greeted, doing everything in her power to keep herself from running to his arms.

“Abigail.” Will hurried to her first, wrapping her up in a tight hug to keep her from disappearing, nose in her hair. He squeezed, breathless, the wind knocked out of him by her arrival. He pulled back to regard her, to rub her arms and look her up and down, making sure she wasn’t about to start bleeding and vanish. She didn’t. Abigail was whole, and lovely, and dressed in the most beautiful clothes. Will hugged her again, crying into her head and feeling her shake as she cried with him.

Hannibal stood in the doorway, watching, not partaking in the group hug until Will glared at him through his tears and demanded, “now, Hannibal, come here.”

“Come here.” He muttered again as Hannibal held the both of them, his arms settling and soothing him. He was able to loosen his grip on Abigail and smile at her, helping her wipe her tears with his thumbs while she did the same for him.

“You have no idea how I’ve missed you.” He told her.

“We’ve missed you.” Abigail returned, beaming, cheeks red from weeping. “We’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

“Tomorrow.” Hannibal said, and Will met his eyes. “We leave together. We’ll pack tonight, and after the wedding we’ll go.”

Will swallowed, and all he could do was nod and stare. This was not a bargaining chip to ensure Will didn’t betray him; this was a gift. There was no question as to whether or not Will would go with them.


End file.
